CHAPTER 17

SCREAMS COME TRUE!

The ghouls were peeking into bungalows and soundstages on the hunt for Veronica von Vamp. Two crew monsters passed by carrying a gigantic light, and Hoodude scooted across the road to avoid them—and was hit in the head by a typewriter flying out a window!

“Yaaa-oof!” yelled Hoodude, startled. “Okay, all good, I’m good,” he added, just before tripping over a bucket and falling again.

A pretty gargoyle, wearing big glasses, stuck her head out the window. She flapped her wings in frustration when she saw the typewriter on the ground. “Oops, missed. Hey, could you throw that in the trash with the other typewriters? In creative frustration?”

“Sure,” said Hoodude. He picked up the typewriter and tossed it into a pile of typewriters—each with a single page of paper with one sentence typed on it.

“Sorry,” said the gargoyle. “Just going through a little writer’s block.” She tapped her hard-as-rock head.

Clawdia gasped. She recognized the gargoyle at once. She whispered to the other ghouls. “It can’t be! That’s Scary Stone, the most amazing screamwriter in Hauntlywood!”

Draculaura went right over to the window. “Ms. Stone, um, if you have writer’s block, my friend Clawdia is a writer. She can help.”

Robecca nodded in agreement. She retrieved the thrown-away typewriter and handed it to Clawdia.

Scary Stone sighed. “This new werewolf movie? It is chewing me up!”

Shyly, Clawdia started to type. After a few minutes in which no one dared speak, Clawdia handed the typewriter to Scary.

She read it and read it again. “You’ve changed Wwwoooa to Aooww! So authentic, so raw, so… wolfy! It’s brilliant. You have got to help me with the rest of the script.”

Clawdia was stunned. What should she do? “It’s always been my scream to be a writer in Hauntlywood!”

“See you later!” said Draculaura encouragingly. “Write lots of words!”

“Aw, good-bye, guys. I hope you find the—”

Scary Stone had yanked her inside the bungalow!

“Go, have fun!” urged the ghouls, happy for her. They would have liked to stick around, but they knew that they didn’t have much time left to find the vampire star.

The next place they looked was a studio where a boo-vie was being filmed. Monster assistants were holding moss-covered tree branches that looked like they were right from New Goreleans. Above a director’s chair hovered a ghost director, Sofeara Gorepola. Near her was a normal-looking sea-monster actor, wearing a not-so-normal-looking sea-monster costume.

“Where is my camera two?” the director was complaining. “My underwater camera?”

A gargoyle in a badly fitting wet suit and swim mask flopped over to her with a camera on his shoulder. He said something, but his snorkel muffled his words.

“Really? Made of stone? That’s your excuse?” Sofeara Gorepola was furious. “I can’t make this boo-vie without underwater footage!”

But the gargoyles were storming out. They sank, of course, every time they went in the water.

Clawdeen walked over to the director. “Excuse me,” she said. “I think I know someone who can help.” She pulled over Honey Swamp.

“Go on!” urged Draculaura. “This is your scream!”

That was all the encouragement Honey needed. “Yup!” she said. “There’s nobody better if you’re talking ’bout a camera and a swamp. Why, I can rack a focus while changing lenses on a backtracked steadicam.”

“Whoa! What does that even mean?” Draculaura whispered to the other ghouls.

Sofeara studied Honey Swamp. She looked to the door where the gargoyle in the wet suit was still standing. “All right, I’ll try you out.”

The gargoyle angrily threw his camera to the ground and waddled away.

But the ghouls were thrilled for their friend.

“You go, ghoul!”

“And… action!” called Sofeara Gorepola.

Honey waved to her friends before jumping into a pool of water—camera in hand.

Sofeara Gorepola watched the film on her director’s monitor. “This is great!” exclaimed the director. “Keep rolling. And… cut! Love it!”

Honey emerged from the water and waved to her friends. She had made it in Hauntlywood! “Muah!” She blew the ghouls a kiss.

Hoodude caught it and blew one back. “Muah!”

Back outside, the ghouls saw another gargoyle staggering down the street, burdened under an enormous pile of scripts. A berserk boo-vie executive was raging at him. “I’m looking for a triple threat! Where are we gonna find someone with the pure, raw talent to handle this part?”

Hoodude went right over to the executive. “You wanna triple threat? Here I am!” He started singing, and the gargoyle assistant was so startled that he collapsed under the scripts. A flock of bats flew out from the eaves in a panic.

“I dance!” said Hoodude. He leaped onto a nearby ladder and twirled on it, like a tap-dancing star. He dropped to his knees, jazz hands spread wide, and announced, “Ta-dah! And I act!”

The movie executive was overwhelmed. “You got the job!” he shouted, and he pulled a contract from his pocket and had Hoodude sign it on the spot.

“Even your scream came true!” Clawdeen cheered.

“Nice going!”

“We’ll call you when we find Veronica,” said Draculaura.

As the ghouls continued their search, the gargoyle assistant returned—this time carrying a mop and bucket. He handed them to Hoodude. “In Hauntlywood, triple threat means: dust, mop, sweep.”

Hoodude stared at the cleaning gear and shrugged, still happy. “Oh well, at least I’m in show biz! Cha cha cha!”